


A Night at the Lab in Three Parts

by wholivesin221c



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Innocent, Love, simple, the lab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 17:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholivesin221c/pseuds/wholivesin221c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly never feels like her day starts until Sherlock walks in.<br/>John can't believe his eyes<br/>Sherlock observes himself<br/>set after Scandal in Belgravia but before The Richenbach Fall</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Molly

Molly always felt that her day really started when Sherlock walked in to her lab. Today he and John came in late in the afternoon. John was spouting theories, only about a third of which sounded remotely helpful to Molly whatever the case was. She could tell by the size of the folder in Sherlock’s hands that tonight would be a long one. 

John smiled and said hello before he slumped into a stool and took out a book to settle in for the night. John was cute in his way. He always reminded Molly of a child or a loyal dog; a round faced boy that followed Sherlock around like a puppy. But sometimes she could see in John’s eyes a haunted look that made him seem so old, he was a man that had seen too much. She had thought about asking John out for a cup of coffee a couple of times but somehow she never found the right moment.

Sherlock did not make eye contact or even say hello when he entered the room. He just sauntered over to what Molly thought of as his microscope like some dark prince storming back to his castle. His curls were a little slick today; it must have been raining outside. He opened the case file next to him as he started to take plastic bags out of his pockets that contained what Molly assumed where pieces from the crime scene. 

Molly walked towards him, careful not to invade Sherlock’s personal space, to glance at the case file. She had been assisting Sherlock for so long (almost 3 years) that almost immediately she knew at least some of the chemicals he might need. She went into the back room to grab them. When she returned Sherlock was staring intently into the microscope muttering to himself like he was making notes on a notepad that only existed in a room in his Mind Palace. 

She walked behind him to set the chemicals on his left side she got two steps away before her desire to gaze at Sherlock again overwhelmed her. For maybe the trillionth time that year she cursed her romantic nature. However, to her surprise when she turned around he was looking back, gazing at her with his intense multicolored eyes. It was the closest Molly had ever come to getting a thank you from Sherlock Holmes so she smiled feebly and turned towards her mountain of paper work. 

It could have been her imagination but since Christmas Sherlock had seemed… kinder? That wasn’t quit the right word. It was more like he was making a more conscious effort to observe, and testing himself on how to respond correctly to a wider range of human emotions. It made Molly smile to see him trying. 

She had taken two more steps toward her desk when movement at Sherlock’s microscope made her turn around. It was so involuntary that Molly was surprised to be looking at him again. This time he was looking away. He was mixing some of the chemicals she had brought over with one of the samples from the bags. Molly clenched her fists making a decision to put off paperwork for a little while longer. She steeled herself for what she guessed was probably another futile attempt at socializing with the elusive man that haunted her dreams. 

She walked very carefully back over to Sherlock and stopped very near his side, closer than was strictly necessary. She tried to make what she was doing less awkward by trying to ask something about the test he was performing. Sherlock drew a deep breath, it startled Molly and her hand jumped, accidentally sliding across the back of Sherlock’s hand.

“Sorry” she said.  
She practically ran the few steps to her desk (her nice, neat Sherlock-free desk). She sat down and chided herself for being so stupid. Of course Sherlock needed his personal space, even if he sometimes had a great disregard for other people’s own personal space. He didn’t need her help, especially now that he had John. What could he possibly need from her? 

They spent the rest of the day in silence. Molly caught up on paper work, every once and a while John would turn a page in his book, Sherlock shuffled between microscope and chemicals occasionally looking up something on his phone. 

Sometime after 1 in the morning Molly had fallen asleep at her desk. When she woke up, the clock on her desk said 6 am. She turned and saw Sherlock sitting still, eyes closed fingers steepled under his chin. John was leaning back in his chair. He had placed his book over his face to block out the light and was snoring. Molly reached her hands above her head in a long stretch and she saw something fall to the floor she leaned over and picked it up.

It was Sherlock’s coat. She ran her fingers over the material. Confusion was what first sprang into her mind, but she brought the coarse material closer to her face she breathed in like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her mind took in the marvelous smell that was just Sherlock’s mixed with yesterday’s rainstorm. She set the coat back in her lap, a smile spreading slowly across her face. 

Molly didn’t know how long she sat there absentmindedly stroking Sherlock’s coat. However, when she heard the squeak of a metal stool against the linoleum she looked up. Sherlock was now standing beside his microscope. Molly felt a pull from some invisible force that brought her to her feet as well. 

Sherlock took three long strides towards Molly, stopping just short of intimate personal space. He looked her straight in the eyes and Molly was again stunned by the swirling blues and greens that where at constant war for dominance in his gaze. 

“I trust you slept well Molly.” it was a statement. But the slight inward curve of his eyebrows gave it the barest trace of a question. 

“I slept very well. Thank you.” She then realized that she was still griping the material of the coat tightly. 

She held out the coat. Its proper owner took it, his hands briefly rested on Molly’s. Molly felt as if small sparks of lightning flowed from his fingertips onto the back of her hand and traveled up her arms leaving goose bumps in their wake. 

Sherlock then swirled on the reclaimed coat and his eyes shifted away from Molly’s face. She was grateful for this reprieve as she felt her mouth open slightly in awe of the spectical of Sherlock portraying majesty in the simple gesture of putting on a coat. Sherlock now stared down John. Molly hadn’t even notice he had woken up let alone moved only an arm’s length away. He was staring down the pair of them with an expression caught between bemusement and embarrassment like he had just walked in on something very private.

“Come on John I’ve solved the case. Let's go tell Lastrade it was Mr. Black’s cheating wife She killed both her husband and her lover in one go” Sherlock said suddenly.  
Molly turned to look towards where the Consulting Detective stood. She followed him and John with her eyes as they left the morgue. Molly sighed as another day drew to a close.


	2. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What John sees.

John liked to test when Sherlock stopped listening to him. Today it had been as soon as they walked in to Bart’s. John had posed a theory that ‘maybe it was trained monkey assassins with chopsticks’ that had been the culprits in the double murder of two businessmen that had been found together but had no apparent connection. 

Sherlock’s only response had been “Good John, very good.”

John rolled his eyes and stepped into the lab. There was Molly smiling like always. John had always thought she was very pretty and as he said hello he wondered again why he had never asked her out on a date. Then the answer came; her eyes barely flitted to him in response before they followed Sherlock’s tall angular form to his microscope.

It was obvious to anyone who saw them together that Molly was Sherlock’s and no one was going to get in between them. Not even Moriarty could get between Sherlock and Molly for very long.

John picked a stool opposite of Sherlock and started reading his book. But soon something more interesting than anything in his book unfolded in front of him. 

Molly returned from the back room arms full of chemicals. She set them down by Sherlock’s elbow and took two steps towards her desk. Sherlock looked up from his microscope. A rare occurrence this early into lab work. 

Sherlock must have done something besides stare because Molly smiled back. It was a small smile but it reached her eyes and made them sparkle. When Molly turned back towards her desk Sherlock didn’t immediately return his gaze back towards the sample under the microscope like John expected. his eyes lingered on Molly’s back. 

John had a flash of memory back to his first day with Sherlock when he had told John that he considered himself “married to his work.” Work, John now realized, often involved Molly Hooper. Maybe Sherlock and Molly were connected deeper than either one of them yet realized. 

Molly was walking back towards Sherlock. John was now unabashedly watching them mouth hanging slightly open. This was better than a football game, or those soap operas he sometimes watched with Mrs. Hudson. Molly leaned in to Sherlock, Sherlock closed his eyes and… What was he doing? 

Was Sherlock Holmes really smelling a woman’s hair?

John thought his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. But just as quickly as the moment had come it was over. Molly was moving back to her desk and Sherlock… well Sherlock was sitting completely still like he had been turned to wood or was in shock ,or however close Sherlock ever got to shock. Then John noticed Sherlock looking at his hand as he clench it into a fist and then turn back to his chemicals like nothing had ever happened.

The rest of the night was dull in comparison. John’s book wasn’t nearly as interesting as he wanted it to be. he often looked up to catch Sherlock looking at an oblivious Molly. What was going on in that giant, genius brain of his? 

Once he caught Sherlock’s eye and raised an eyebrow posing the question without the use of words. Sherlock just started at him, his eyes turning to points of ice, freezing any attempts at further communication on that subject. In fact there was no further communication for the rest of the night and John soon fell asleep.

John was woken up by the sound of a stool on the hard floor. He took the book off his eyes and watched as Sherlock crossed over to Molly who was standing beside her chair holding… was that Sherlock’s coat? John got down from his own stool as quietly as he could and rubbed his eyes to get any sleep out of them that might be blurring his vision. 

He heard as Sherlock asked how Molly had slept. That was odd; Sherlock Holmes usually was above such common small talk. All of John’s suspicions about the material in Molly’s hands where confirmed as he saw her hold out the coat to Sherlock. John rolled his eyes at Sherlock flair for drama as he twirled on his coat. 

John stepped forward until he was close enough to see the blush warming Molly’s pale cheeks. The pair finally seemed to realize there was a witness to the exchange. John felt slighly embarrass for intruding on their moment but he was too entertained to be embarrassed for long. He could feel Sherlock staring him down. He met Sherlock’s steely stare with a pointed questioning look. He was going to have to talk to his best friend about all this after they got done with this case. Sherlock’s mouth twitched in irritation 

“Come on John I’ve solved the case. Let's go tell Lastrade it was Mr. Black’s cheating wife. She killed both her husband and her lover in one go” John had to jog to catch up to Sherlock who was already halfway out the door.


	3. Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock lets his sentiment go for a little run

The case from Lastrade was mildly interesting. It certainly had gotten John in the investigating mood. Sherlock had been encouraging him to make deductions of his own which usually started out simplistic and ended with wild speculation. 

When they walked in to the lab at Bart’s, John was just starting on the wild speculation part of his guesses which Sherlock always found comforting, it affirmed his knowledge that he was ten steps ahead of the average intelligence in a case. 

John had stopped his “deductions” to observe the social nicety of acknowledging Molly Hooper’s presents in the lab with a greeting. Sherlock did not feel the need. He had texted her that morning informing her that they might be at the lab today. Why should he announce his arrival with words when the mere act of opening the door signaled his entrance?

Sherlock made his way over to his usual microscope and started pulling out the samples from the crime scene he had snuck into plastic bags and then into his pockets. He took one of the samples found on the victims and prepped a slide. 

He moved his face into the light of the microscope. As Sherlock stared at what he had quickly discovered was plant particulate he felt a warm body pass behind him placing a variety of chemicals he needed at his elbow. He really should give Molly Hooper more credit; her mind was nearly in step with his own. His misjudgment of her at Christmas time still haunted him.

He looked up at her trying to communicate his thanks with a glance. She gave a fleeting small smile in acknowledgement. He looked at her as she turned away for a moment longer before turning himself back to the sample; turning away from the moment of weakness, the moment of sentiment.

Molly was gifted with such an intelligent mind it was a shame that her heart got in the way of it so often. He really would be doing her a favor if he warned her away from all future relationships. Relationships could damage those tender feeling or worse she could end up in a relationship that led to the foolish gesture of proposing marriage! Possibly taking her away from this lab forever! 

He knew people liked companionship isn’t that why John went on all those dates? Then just a flash of imagination came to him. Molly and John, together. 

No. 

Even Sherlock Holmes needed companions and taking both of his away at once was unimaginable.

There was something else in that false picture that tugged at Sherlock. Something he had only felt twice before. Seeing Molly, happy, with someone other than him. None of the times John had gone out with those fleeting women had triggered that dropping feeling in his chest. 

When Molly had walked in to the lab (their lab) with another man it was the first time Sherlock had to confront Molly’s social life outside of his sphere of influence. It had only thrown him off balance for a second before he took in the information about Molly’s “boyfriend” that settled the unpleasant sensation in his chest. The man was gay Sherlock could dismiss him happily.

That had been a mistake, Sherlock reminded himself, seeing as how that man had turned out to be Sherlock’s arch nemesis, Jim Moriarty. Sherlock had plenty of good reasons to hate him now. Just one of them had to do with the feeling of the petite pathologist. Other being the murder of several civilians, and the attempted murder of his best and only friend.

He had experienced the unpleasant sensation again at Christmas when Molly came to the 221 Baker Street Christmas Party. She had put on a new dress, had put on a little more makeup and carried that wrapped gift. He had experienced shortness of breath when he had seen Molly in that form fitting dress, in almost three years of knowing her he never remembered seeing her in anything but scrubs and loose fitting jumpers. 

When he noticed the correlation between the shade of her lips and the wrapping on the gift, he experiences that curious dropping feeling for the second time. Being confronted with feelings he didn't understand he lashed out with the weapon he used so very skillfully, words.

Sherlock now grasped how awful he had been to her. The words spoken that night we're as unfair as they were untrue. Under John’s guidance he was learning how cruel his deductions could be to those who relied on sentiment. The gift from Molly had been for him the zenith of his learn curve. 

Never in a million years had Sherlock dreamed that gift was for him. She had made the words he threw away like pennies in a well dry up. He had felt guilt mixed with something hard to define, (hope, joy?)

He had known about her crush on him for as long as they had been associating, and had often used it to his advantage. But he never thought a crush could lead to unsought gifts and women doing silly things like putting bows in their hair that brought out the lighter flecks of brown in their eyes. How could Molly, bright, beautiful, smart Molly have feelings, for him? He had suddenly realized then knowing something intellectually and being confronted with it physically where two different things.

All he did know was that he knew in that moment was: He didn’t want anyone else to hurt his Molly as he had just done.

Sherlock moved away from his microscope hoping to remove himself from his introspection and started mixing chemicals for some tests. All of the sudden Molly was there by his side. She fluttered over words Sherlock didn’t really hear. She was almost as bad at making small talk as he was.

A few strands of Molly’s hair had escaped her braid and were wafting under Sherlock’s nose. He breathed in deeply. She smelled nice. For some reason Sherlock couldn’t identify the exact sent but she smelled homey and calming. 

The sound of his breath had startled Molly making her move away with an unexpected result; her finger tips briefly skimmed across the back of the hand that had been lying flat on the counters surface. It felt like a crackle of lightning playing across the top of his hand. Even when Molly had turned away and was across the room his skin still felt warm where her fingers had been. 

He stared at his hand for a moment trying to deduce something from it. Disappointed, he curled it into a fist. Never mind that in the moment he had just wanted to breathe her in, make her essence apart of him. He had startled her.

Stupid Sherlock! 

He had never thought of himself as stupid until that moment when he gave in the sentiment. Why was it so hard to resist sentiment around Molly lately? Sherlock put those thoughts at the back of his mind palace to think about later and continued with is work. 

Around 10 o’clock Sherlock had pretty much solved the case. But he didn’t want to leave the lab yet. So he just sat twiddling the nobs on the microscope or looking up crime reports on his phone. Occasionally he stole glances at Molly’s back as her hand scrolled across some paper work. 

Once he looked up at John to see him raise an eyebrow communicating that John had seen Sherlock’s glances and was asking for an explanation. Sherlock didn’t give one and just turned to some of the chemicals thinking there was no harm in working on a few small personal experiments as long as they were here. 

Around 1 in the morning Sherlock started to hear light snores from John’s corner. He looked over to Molly and saw that her head was nestled into her folded arm. She was breathing deeply which indicated that she was also asleep. 

Sherlock made his way over to Molly. She looked so peaceful when she rested; something about her face was different, unguarded. Sherlock didn’t even realize Molly guarded her facial expressions until he saw her like this. 

Molly gave a slight shiver in her sleep and turned her face the other way like she could feel Sherlock’s gaze even as she slept. Without even thinking about it Sherlock went to the chair where he had placed his coat, gathered it up and placed it over Molly’s sleeping form and then walked back to his place by the microscope.

He did not require sleep that night. He instead took the opportunity to enter his mind palace and sorted various information. He was, however, very careful to avoid the room he had placed his encounter with Molly. 

Sherlock was aware of the sun when it rose, and he heard when Molly moved in her chair waking up and examining the room. When the noise had stopped, he opened he eye just a sliver and observed Molly rubbing her thumb and pointer finger around the edging of his coat an unconscious smile giving her face an ethereal glow. 'She looks so peaceful when she thinks no one can see her,' thought Sherlock. 

Sherlock made a quick detour to a room in his Mind Palace where he stored proper things to say when wanting to engage in small talk. He had found small talk an advantageous tool when he wanted to pry information out of hesitant minds. Though he had been informed by John that he lacked the necessary tack to make he’s attempts really believable. 

He did not want to startle Molly by just walking up to her, so he purposefully scooted the stool he was occupying nosily across the floor. It had the desired effect of alerting Molly to him and the unintended consequence of waking up John. Sherlock let out a small sigh. He would now have an audience for his interaction with Molly. 

“I trust you slept well Molly.” It came out harsher than he wanted it but John had often told him that if you use someone’s name when addressing them then it had a positive effect.

Molly blushed and smiled widely, she really was quite beautiful even with her hair tousled from sleep. He found himself having to focus of forcing his hands not to reach out and brush that hair off her forehead. But in his concentration on his hands he missed her answer to his question. She held out his coat and he released his concentration on his hands so they could reach out and take it from her. 

He then whirled on the garment he often thought of as his shield against dull humanity. He glanced from a lowered gaze at Molly in attempt to catch her unguarded reaction. Her face said she enjoyed the flair that came with the reapplication of this garment. But then John was suddenly at his elbow. And for the first time Sherlock felt annoyance at his only friend. Sherlock knew the look on Johns face. He wanted to talk about feelings, Particularly Sherlock’s feelings. 

Sherlock wanted to delay that particular conversation for as long as possible. So he would first take John to Lastrade who would maybe give them another case, which would result in another trip to the lab. The phrase the sooner we leave, the sooner we can return came to mind. What a ridiculous expression.

Sherlock was then aware that it had been quiet for longer than was expedient. So he filled the silence. “Come on John I’ve solved the case. Let's go tell Lastrade it was Mr. Black’s cheating wife. She killed both her husband and her lover in one go” and with that he walked out the door.


End file.
